Scars
by Danny Phantom SG-1
Summary: Danny and Sam's first date after the events of Phantom Planet becomes anything but a day at the beach when they are confronted with scars from the past. DannyxSam angsty fluff.


**A/N: Hello...I'm back. :) I've decided to ease my way back into the DP phandom slowly...very slowly. This fic has been done for awhile and has just been sitting on my computer wasting space. Just a little oneshot/character insight piece into Danny and Sam post-Phantom Planet. It was going to have a lot more angsty meat to it, but then it sort of got bogged down. There is such a thing as too much angst, methinks. I'm working on other things that will hopefully be better than this (more action, less fluffy angst), but little snippets seem to be all I can really write and finish at the moment. Hopefully, this will suffice until I can get the more substantial stuff done. Expect a few more oneshots like this soon-ish. Enjoy.**

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_Scars_

"Wow, it's hot out here," Danny complained.

That was his first mistake. Sam had been waiting for some kind of catalyst to bring up what she had been wanting to tell him the whole time they'd been at this stupid beach.

"Then take your shirt off," she suggested off-handedly, trying to feign disinterest in the thought as she leaned back onto her black beach towel.

Danny shot her a look as she continued to fake staring off into the distance nonchalantly. When he didn't back down, she finally gave up and threw her hands in the air in defeat.

"What? It really is hot out here, and it's got to be at least seventy degrees hotter under those layers of artificial materials," Sam quickly surmised.

"I'll have you know this t-shirt is made of one hundred percent cotton," Danny countered defensively.

She groaned. "That's not my point, Danny."

"Then why even bring it up?" he yelled, getting angry.

"Because I _have _to get my environmental point across," Sam explained, rolling her eyes. "And you know that. _You're _just trying to avoid the point in case. You're going to be hotter wearing a shirt out here even if it _is _biodegradable."

Danny simply shrugged, and that put Sam over the edge of cool. She sat up and took off her sunglasses so that she looked more like she meant business.

"Look, Danny," she said heatedly, "_every single guy_ on this beach has his shirt off. It's nothing weird or unnatural. We're on a BEACH! Even guys who shouldn't walk around shirtless," she said, wincing as she saw Tucker attempting to snorkel in shallow water, "are flaunting what they don't have. It's just the natural way of doing things. You've got to quit being so self-conscious all the time," she huffed, settling back down hotly onto her towel.

Danny sighed and turned away from her, mumbling, "Maybe I can't help that."

She looked at him disgustedly, fed-up with his overboard, noble humility. "Danny, come on. You may look like a skinny twig initially, but you've got to be well-built. You fight ghosts EVERY DAY!"

"Exactly," he blurted quickly, his eyes blazing with an unrecognizable emotion as he turned toward Sam.

She squinted at him, "What?"

He shook his head, "Nothing."

"Danny, you're not making any sense," she scoffed.

They sat in silence for awhile, and Sam thought with remorseful bitterness that this was not how she'd wanted their first date to go. Her face softened, and she almost felt like crying from the unexpected hostile atmosphere that had erupted between her and Danny. But she maintained her composure; years of practicing a disaffected scowl couldn't have been for nothing. Apparently, however, her doting date noticed her tearful look, and he placed a warm hand on her back, looking at her sincerely.

"I'm sorry," Danny apologized first. "You have a point. I really could use a cooling-off. It's getting too hot."

Sam hid a smirk and felt her tears recede. "Yeah, I'm sorry, too, Danny. I shouldn't have gone off on you like that. But I just don't want my boyfriend getting overheated."

He laughed, "Hey, I have ice powers. I'm not thinking that's gonna happen. In fact, I _would _just make a nice little snow storm to cool down, but I'm guessing that could get a little conspicuous."

He smiled at her. Now _that's _what she'd been looking forward to on this date. He could smile so sweetly when he wanted to—when he wasn't goofing off and being such an immature guy with Tucker.

"Well, you can't be using your powers in broad daylight, even if half the people on this beach know your secret," she advised. "The ones who don't already know need to stay that way. I don't want my boyfriend to get bogged down by too much fame…or infamy."

"Thanks for the consideration," he said, laughing in the middle of his sentence like he did so often. He coughed and sobered up quickly, though, "But, um…can we go under that tree over there?" he asked, pointing toward a palm tree a little way off.

Sam's face fell slightly. "Well, you know, the shade won't help that much."

He nodded and added lamely, "I know. I just want to get out of the way of all these people first."

Sam sighed. Well, at least it was progress. She gave him an understanding smirk and shrugged her consent.

"I guess I can get up and move," she said, beginning to rise.

"You don't have to," Danny said shiftily. He made his way over to her and lifted her up, carrying her bridal-style over to the tree. She smiled, rolling her twinkling eyes as he set her down.

"Uh, thanks, but you think you can go back and get the towels?" she asked.

He huffed indignantly but went back to get them, anyway. She watched him as he walked away. Overly-modest or not, Danny was a pretty amazing guy. If only she could get him to show that off in public more—maybe then his human half would gain as much acceptance as his ghost half had seemed to garner over time.

When he returned with the blankets, an unreadable expression on his face, Danny sat down next to Sam and took a deep, gulping breath.

She watched him carefully. "So, are you going to relieve yourself of that burden of a t-shirt now?"

He attempted a smile, then said, "Yeah. Right."

At last, he crossed his arms and gripped the bottom hem of his shirt. He hesitated just a moment, then lifted the object quickly over his head, bringing his hands down quickly after its removal and slouching slightly as his eyes rocketed from left to right in their sockets, making sure he hadn't attracted any attention.

He hadn't.

Well, except for Sam's. Of course, he was toned (even more so than Sam had imagined), but she could now see his reason for being reluctant to remove his shirt, and she couldn't help but feel a pang of a mixture of sympathy and guilt course through her as she discreetly examined him.

All across his back, there were various scratches and marks. Battle scars, she knew, from his numerous skirmishes with ghosts. She hadn't known there'd been so many. Naturally, she assumed he'd have a few after these past few years, but not quite to this extent.

But when she saw the long slash across his chest, her attempts to observe him neutrally vanished, and she winced slightly. The scar extended from his right shoulder across and down his chest. She wondered how he'd gotten such a horrid injury, but she bit her lip to keep from asking and to stop from tearing up.

Danny had merely turned his face away from her when he took his shirt off, knowing full well she'd be looking at him—all over his exposed skin—something he should soak in, but instead he wanted to evaporate forever. He kept his head turned, his heart pounding wildly, hoping that she wouldn't ask. Hoping that something would happen to make it all go away. He couldn't bear to tell her the truth—that the terrifying scar slashed across him had come from his battle with Undergrowth when Sam had ordered a particularly thorny root to grab hold of him and not let go. He'd never blamed her—she hadn't been in control, just as he had lost control with Freakshow—but if her conscience was anything like his had been after the Freakshow incident, she would berate herself eternally. He needed her to not ask...he needed her to just accept him. Because then he could get through it, despite the scars.

As he sat with his eyes scrunched closed, his face turned from Sam, he felt an unexpected, gentle touch on his back which made his breath hitch as he bit back tears of shame. He couldn't look at her. Battle scars or not, he somehow felt degraded compared to all the other men on the beach.

At the thought of being compared to them, his eyes shifted over to Dash and Kwan's game of beach volleyball, each of them perfectly unscathed, and he could feel the awful sentiment of jealousy creeping into his chest. Even Tucker, whose physique was nothing to be envious of, had no disgusting marks all across his body. Danny felt suddenly isolated in a world of normal teenagers whose biggest problems with their skin were zits.

Sam could decipher Danny's line of vision, and she knew he was measuring himself against everyone else on the beach.

But the thing was, she wasn't looking at anyone else on the beach.

She trailed her fingers, which barely grazed his back, along his skin, and when she hit a scar, Danny stiffened. She could feel the tension in his shoulders. She ran her hand smoothly over his back, tracing his scar with her eyes and her hands, feeling every sacrifice he had made for the town…and for her.

The longer she stroked his back, the more relaxed Danny seemed to become. His head turned slightly towards her, and she could see his eyes were now closed, and a single tear slid from their dark, closed-off depths.

She grabbed his shoulders and carefully turned him towards her so that they were facing each other. She reached for his chest and touched his longest scar with the tip of her fingers, tracing it with tears in her eyes, yet both of them could feel the intimacy of the moment, and neither wanted to break the silence nor the connection between them. Somehow, feeling her hands on the scar she had (_no, not really_) been a part of made Danny feel...whole. Better.

Sam kept her fingers resting on his chest for some time before they both lifted their glistening eyes to meet each other, their breathing suddenly choppy and rapid from crying and from another emotion altogether.

Before she brushed her hand away, Sam took a breath and said, "You're the most beautiful person on this whole beach, Danny."

With that, he fell into her arms, embracing her like mad, and she stroked his unruly hair and rubbed his scar-covered back. He lifted his head and looked her straight in the eyes before planting a hard kiss to her lips. She closed her eyes and felt as though she were under the ocean's waters, unable to breathe, until he pulled away from her, and she finally opened her eyes.

After the shock wore off, they both sat back under their tree and surveyed the entire beach, emotionally drained and fulfilled at the same time. Sam could feel Danny's hand creep toward hers before lacing her slender fingers through his strong ones, and as she gazed at all the happy, carefree people on their vacations, she knew none were as satisfied as the two of them at that very moment.

Finally, after minutes of contemplating the ground, Danny shot a look over at Sam and smiled shyly at her, "Thanks."

Sam gave him a wry grin. "You know how blunt I can be, Danny. When I say things like that, I'm not just saying it because you're my boyfriend or something. Even if you weren't, I'd still think your scars were…" she searched for the proper word, "perfect."

He looked back out at the beach, and Sam could gaze into those sorrowful, yet daring eyes that sparkled in the ocean's gleam forever.

"And I think you're pretty perfect, too," he said, then glanced over at her playfully. "Or at least sort of close to perfect."

They both laughed, Sam giving Danny a slight shove, and they sat the rest of the day, despite all they'd been through, content to lean against each other for support as they gazed out at that amethyst ocean.

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**-play the sappy music-** **That's right. I actually wrote a happy ending for once. Didn't want the angst to override things too much. Don't fret, though. Plenty of tragedy should be coming your way if all goes according to plan. Hopefully, this is all right, considering I haven't written anything substantial in...oh, six or seven months. Not to mention I haven't written for DP in probably a year or so. Geez. Please let me know how poorly I did. I can take it. Thanks for reading, and a review would be enormously appreciated. **


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